


Romancing the Girl

by strawberrykait



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-22
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrykait/pseuds/strawberrykait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in a dead-end job, Hermione Granger escapes into cheap romance novels. But at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romancing the Girl

It wasn't allowed, ever. There were rules about it, in fact, and Hermione's mind often wondered if she were the cause. Plus, there was the negative social view on those who did what she did. So she did the best she could; held off as long as possible and tried to think of England.

  


But really, who was she kidding? Everybody knew, and some had even witnessed her sink into disgrace and degradation. It couldn't be helped, honestly. It was something she had fallen into years ago and no matter how good her efforts were, Hermione Granger could not give it up. It was an addiction, pure and simple.

  


There ought to be rehab for this, she thought as she scurried down the hall, head ducked down, brooking no interruptions from passersby. She had to find a hidey-hole, somewhere out of the way, for just fifteen minutes - _five_ minutes, anything she could get. Hermione ducked into the ladies' and scurried into a stall. Without a second thought, she plopped down onto the toilet and dug into her purse, instantly retrieving a well-worn novel.

  


Oh, all right, a _book_ , she conceded to herself. Cheap romances like these could hardly be called novels, could they? Yes, they were outlandish. Yes, they were overly sexed. And Merlin, yes, they had the most atrocious titles! But still, they were sinfully delectable, better than chocolate, and all Hermione could think about.

  


Her friends considered her brilliant. She was a unique, open-minded witch revolutionizing the wizarding world into bigger and better things, so surely she must read highly regarded works of philosophy, economics, classic literature, and such. Yes, she had read some of those, but romance novels were her drug of choice.

  


Hermione yanked open her book, _Love In Flames_ , ready to devour the final pages. It was only mid-morning, yet she'd been able to sneak several chapters in already. On a good day she could finish one romance. When her boss, Mr. Fergus Collins, decided his time was better spent elsewhere, she could manage more than two a day.

  


Unfortunately, this was not turning out to be such a day.

  


She managed to finish about five pages when someone began tapping on her stall door. Frantically she shoved her secret pastime back into her purse and reached back to flush. The impatient woman glared harshly at Hermione as she sidestepped past her to wash and, regretfully, return to work.

  


***

  


"Granger, this needs to be redone and sent down to the Spirit Division." Draco Malfoy plopped a pile of parchments unceremoniously onto Hermione's desk, making her jump in her seat. Nervously she eyed him, concealing her newest book just under the edge of her desk. Eventually she met his eyes. _They were a shocking blue, sending a bolt of electricity straight to her nether..._

  


She shook herself. Draco stared at her for a very long moment. Hermione was certain she was blushing, but he said nothing else before returning to his office. She couldn't help it - her mind was overflowing with snippets that popped up at the most inopportune moments. Luckily he found her odd and of a lower class than himself, or she was sure he would have commented on it by now because it happened frequently.

  


When Hermione was given the opportunity to choose any department at the Ministry of Magic, being a war hero and general wizarding world celebrity, she went with her heart, straight into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Being Division. Here she would make a difference, she believed. She would enable the oppressed creatures to better themselves, to speak against their mistreatment. Even the ones who had a voice but didn't feel they were downtrodden, Hermione still wanted to be their champion.

  


She never expected, after nearly four years, to be hardly more than a secretary, and to have to work alongside the most abusive wizard she had ever met, Draco Malfoy. That was definitely not in the cards. _Still, it was a foothold, a stepping stone, leading - oh, what's the use? I ought to do like Harry and Ron suggested and just put in for a transfer. There's no room for advancement with Malfoy bogging me down with such busy work and rubbish as this._

  


Draco Malfoy had been transferred into this department shortly after she was hired and was promptly promoted. Sort of. He was slightly above her, being the Assistant to the Director, whereas she was only a Junior Assistant. She was surprised the day he waltzed into the office, smirk firmly in place as he passed her desk, headed for the office behind her. Hermione had imagined that his affiliations before and especially during the war would have made it quite difficult for him to find a job at all, let alone work for the Ministry of Magic. But what irked her most was that he got it simply because he was a man.

  


Often she found herself wondering why he was even here. The Malfoys were an old, wealthy family; surely he didn't need to work for a living like most people. When she was in a foul mood, she told herself that he was here merely to repair the damage accrued to the family name over the last generation. Other times she was willing to give the benefit of the doubt and believe that he just wanted something to do with his time. _It must get terribly boring, lounging about in his mansion, blowing through Galleons and Galleons on whims and women._

  


Obviously, she was not feeling very charitable today.

  


The report glared up at her. She had already written this report on the sexual harassment charges brought against Richard Dudgeon, a spirit residing in the Leaky Cauldron, by Tracey Davis twice before, and it was rather cut and dry. The only reason she could think as to why Malfoy would make her do it again was because it was an unbiased account of the events rather than the version Ms. Davis gave to everyone and anyone who would listen. Including the _Daily Prophet_.

  


 _And since she was a former classmate...Oh, well._

  


"Really, if he was dissatisfied with my assessment he ought to do it himself," she groused. Despite her resentment, Hermione began rewriting, her quill nearly perforating the parchment with each irritable stab. It was too easy to zone out while doing so, allowing her mind to replay the last few pages read before the intrusion. She really ought to limit the amount of time she devoted to such distractions.

  


Ginny Weasley had offered a solution to her: get shagged already. Again, Hermione rolled her eyes at the idea. That wasn't the kind of woman she was, to randomly ‘hook up', as her oldest girlfriend had put it, with some random bloke. Granted, it had been a while for Hermione. She and Ron had made a go of it just after the Second Wizarding War and, while it lasted a rather long time, it had never really progressed into much. Ron had found his life's purpose in his brother's shop and was satisfied with their relationship as it was then.

  


Hermione needed something more. End of story, or at least that chapter of her life. Since Ron, she had gone on a handful of dates, but nothing substantial. She found that all she really needed was her career, her friends, and a romance novel to get by. It wasn't the best life by far, and it most definitely wasn't the life she would have chosen for herself either. But it was what it was until something better came along.

  


She frowned at the door between her desk and his office, recalling the odd look he gave her before departing. She thanked her parents for teaching her to not speak without thinking first, or else someone would be writing up a sexual harassment report about her.

  


***

  


The end of the day arrived almost too late for Hermione as she grabbed her purse and coat and marched out of the office. Malfoy had spent the entire afternoon in and about, which really put a damper on her reading time. The amount of work, honest work, she accomplished each day could take less than two hours to complete. And every time she approached Mr. Collins about taking on more responsibility, he either ignored her or pawned her off on Malfoy, who also ignored her, but more often criticized her in some fashion. Once he had harped on how inefficient her reports were to the head of the department and another time he had ridiculed her penmanship. Honestly, her _penmanship_? Could he really find nothing else to disparage?

  


At least now her time was her own and she could toddle off home, curl up with a few romances and a glass of wine, and make the dreaded day vanish.

  


Not twenty feet in front of her was the dreaded Malfoy, obviously searching the crowd for somebody. Judging by the scowl on his face, she knew, just _knew_ he was looking for her. For a moment she considered a Disillusionment spell, or even a Confundus, but instead she took a deep breath and continued towards the Floo, hoping she was wrong.

  


She wasn't.

  


"And where exactly do you think you're off to then, Granger?"

  


Hermione halted, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Er, home, like everybody else?"

  


"Aren't you forgetting something?" His hands perched on his hips as he stared her down, expectantly.

  


She stared back, quickly reviewing her personal items and any work she might have left unfinished, finding nothing amiss. Confused, she shook her head. Malfoy sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose.

  


"The meeting with Robards, ring any bells? Really, Granger, forgetting meetings is no way to get ahead in this world," he said, smirking through his ridicule. Without a word, Malfoy walked past her, back towards their office. There was nothing for it. Forgetting the meeting with Gawain Robards, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, woke her up a bit, realizing just how much of her day went by in a blur of sexual tension. She was fuzzy-brained and neglectful when she couldn't afford to be.

  


Ever since Harry and Ron had begun their Auror training, they had done nothing but praise the M.L.E., and Robards in particular, and Hermione wanted in. Not that she felt called to be an Auror, but the appeal of investigation made Hermione salivate. She daydreamed about how much there would be to learn and to contribute and had been trying ever since to find an opening.

  


Then Malfoy surprised her by announcing an inter-department cross training project which would instruct the patrol officers, the Hit Wizards and others from Law Enforcement about the recent behavioral developments in the Ghoul community. Since he was the liaison between the sub-departments, and since he considered her his secretary, she was expected to attend. And set up, take minutes, provide refreshments, and, of course, clean up afterwards.

  


And she forgot all about it.

  


  


  


Throughout the meeting Hermione kept drifting away. Her Quick Quill took the minutes for her, and she checked often to confirm they were on track. But she was distracted, despite the topic at hand. The Head of Magical Law Enforcement sat at the opposite end of the long table from Malfoy, who slowly paced back and forth, giving his presentation on the ghoul situation.

  


It still smarted her that he was claiming the credit when Hermione had, in fact, been the author. He had cornered her into doing it, like always, hinting that not only was her job expendable if she didn't do it, but that he doubted she was capable. It was a cheap trick that she constantly fell for, having lived her entire life somewhat insecure in the wizarding world. And Malfoy used it against her every time.

  


But she never said no, never complained beyond her own desk or to her close friends, because she knew what she could produce would be brilliant, and believed it would hopefully propel her to the next level. Of course she had to remind herself of this nearly every day, but still, she knew it would happen.

  


The room was overly warm, and Malfoy's drawl was lulling her. She turned to face him and nearly choked. There, in front of the entire room, stood Draco Malfoy dressed in a pirate getup. His white shirt was parted nearly to his waistband, his chest well-defined and glistening in the bright light. His blond head was covered by a weather-worn leather hat, a red bandana peeking out from underneath.

  


Instead of a wand he held a pistol, aiming it at the wall behind him as he continued to speak, his voice taking on a hint of brogue. Suddenly, he met her eyes and she felt a stirring in her... soul. Malfoy flung the pistol with one hand, his cap with the other, and charged the table, coming for her. All she could do was watch and pant. He was going to take her, in front of everybody.

  


"Yes," Hermione moaned.

  


Several heads turned towards her, waking her from her daydream. Her mouth opened and closed spastically, while the men in the room stared as though she had two heads. Without meaning to, she glanced up at Malfoy, who was nearly laughing outright, but managed to draw their attention back to his presentation. She had never been so humiliated.

  


  


  


"Quite a display back there, Granger. Truly entertaining." Hermione looked over at Malfoy, who was all of a sudden walking with her down the hallway. His hands were in his pockets and he was smirking, enjoying her discomfort. _As usual._

  


"Sod off, Malfoy," Hermione scowled, increasing her speed. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up with a good book and go to bed. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so, since Malfoy continued to hound her out of the building. She knew she had made a fool of herself, but still he pressed on. No matter how many years she had known him, Hermione could never fully anticipate what would come out of Draco Malfoy's mouth next.

  


"Is that any way to speak to your supervisor?" He tsked, keeping a lightness to his reprimand. As they made their way towards the lifts ,he nodded good night to other Ministry employees, offering a false, toothy grin to some. Malfoy was completely repulsive, easily transitioning into whatever would earn him what he wanted. But she knew him better than most others there, having gone to school with him for most of their lives. There were only two versions of Malfoy: the arrogant arsehole and the angry arsehole, and both disgusted Hermione.

  


"You would think someone hoping to be promoted would make more of an effort to impress her superiors rather than demonstrate what a complete idiot she is."

  


She bit her tongue to the point of tasting blood. She wasn't surprised that he had mocked her desire to move up and out of Magical Creatures, but she resented how often he used his slightly higher position against her. Again her anger rose, as she knew he wanted it to, but she did her best to keep it to herself. Her behavior earlier was fuel enough. Instead she sped up, rushing into an overly crowded lift.

  


Unfortunately, the other occupants were nice enough to make room for two, and in came Malfoy, standing awfully close. So close, in fact, she could feel him breathing against her arm. Hermione jerked back, as though burned, crossing her arms awkwardly. He laughed.

  


The levels crept slowly. It was agonizing, especially since they were only on level four, and rather surprising because of the hour, well past the normal close of day. Finally the lift came to the ground floor and she scurried out, desperate for space. The Floo wasn't far now, if only she could make it before he caught up with her.

  


"Granger?"

  


No such luck.

  


"There's something I've been dying to ask you, actually," he said, quietly. Hermione cut her eyes his way, her march slowing out of dread. She noticed he kept his gaze downward, a smile playing about his mouth. Yes, she was right to be afraid. Before he had the chance to speak again, she threw the powder and escaped for good.

  


  


***

  


  


Two days later, after recovering from her faux pas in the meeting room and the asinine encounter with Malfoy afterwards, Hermione decided to have lunch at her desk. Sometimes, fairly regularly, she met up with Harry and Ron to grab a quick bite, but not this week. Instead she chose a simple ham sandwich and _Rodrigo the Rogue_. It didn't take long for Hermione to fall deep into the novel, sandwich and the outside world completely forgotten, replaced by a smooth-talking bad boy, charming his way into the heart (and bed) of the virginal heroine, Elaine.

  


" _I really don't think getting physical is such a good thing," she panted, desperate for space between herself and his broad, heaving chest. "I like being friends with you too much to complicate things like this." He approached her slowly, gently pulling her hands to the side then bringing them up to fall on his shoulders. He crouched to her level, eyeing her with such desire that Elaine could feel the heat building inside..._

  


"Hmmm, _I_ don't really think that's physically possible, do you?"

  


Hermione jerked in her chair, the book flying out of her hands, knocking her drink over on the desk. Frantically she scrambled for her wand and the bottle, her hands shaking as she cleaned up the mess. All the while, Draco Malfoy was laughing. Before she could finish, he plopped himself down into the chair on the other side of her desk and began reading aloud from the fallen book.

  


Her heart jumped up into her throat and lodged itself there. Malfoy glanced up between words, his smile growing at her reaction as he continued. The mocking tone of his voice snapped her into action, snatching the book back. Closing her eyes, she made it to the count of three before he began needling her again.

  


"It's hard to believe that such a _brilliant_ witch like you would read such crap," he said. "Erotic though it may be." He rose and walked back around her desk. Hermione turned her chair the opposite way, collecting what remained of her lunch to toss it in the bin.

  


"Or are you just that lonely these days, Granger?"

  


She looked up but not at him, feeling the humiliation burn her cheeks. _I won't say anything, nothing at all, because that's all he's trying to do - bully me like we are still children. I won't give him the satisfaction._ Instead she spun her chair around and stared at him. What he saw was not what he expected, clearly, because the ridicule immediately fell away. Malfoy cleared his throat and broke her gaze.

  


"Sorry," he quietly said, "about your lunch." He hurried on, looking everywhere but at her. "I haven't had any yet, either. Why don't you let me buy you..."

  


"No, thank you, Mister Malfoy." The formality was like cold water on them both. Hermione grabbed her book and her wand, stuffing both into her purse, and left the office.

  


  


  


"Mr. Collins," Hermione asked hesitantly. Her boss, Fergus Collins, was quite a bit past one-hundred years old, but far from spry, as Dumbledore had been at half his age over. She was always cautious around Mr. Collins because he often complained about his sensitivity to scent. And sound, and light... Really, he was more of a hazard than the department regularly dealt with, but he was the boss and had been for some time, so she did her best to comply with his conditions.

  


"Mr. Collins, sir?" She repeated, louder this time. The old wizard cringed at her voice. He stopped shuffling forward, glowering up at her as she offered an apologetic, if not entirely sincere, look.

  


"What is it, Granger?" He gruffed.

  


"It's about the position we discussed, sir, last month," she gently reminded him. "In the Beast Division? You had said that I was under consideration for Parker's position as Assistant, but we haven't had an opportunity..."

  


Something caught Hermione's eye over Collins' head. Draco Malfoy sat on her desk across the way, watching the exchange, a look of subdued humour apparent. When he caught her eye he began making faces at her. She scowled in response, missing what Collins had to say on the matter at hand. He huffed irritably when she asked him to repeat it.

  


"The position's been filled, Granger." As he shuffled away, Hermione stood stock-still, gaping at the old codger, feeling the anger and hurt well up inside. _All this time, only to be brushed off._ Slowly she walked back to her desk, thankful to find that Malfoy had left as well. She could do that job, which was on the same level as Malfoy, and do it much better than he or Parker ever could. And she was due, damn it! Her work day in and out had demonstrated how well suited she was for that division. It was the next rung in her career ladder, but as usual, the boys in the club did their best to keep her on the ground. Hermione's sulk was soon interrupted.

  


"Don't know why you didn't just come to me, Granger. After all, I _am_ your immediate supervisor." Sometimes Hermione _really_ wished she could hex the bollocks off Draco Malfoy, especially when he was snooty. He continued, ignoring her sigh of exasperation. "I could have told you that Collins would never let you take Parker's spot, and do you want to know why?"

  


"When have I ever wanted anything from you, _Mister_ Malfoy, including conversation?" She muttered under her breath, hoping a tiny bit that he could, in fact, hear her. Instead she glanced up at him, raising her eyebrows in question but clearly showing she could care less about his answer.

  


"It's because you're not a man, Granger, despite the way you dress." Her hand lifted to her chest, touching her serviceable robes in shock as he continued. "Collins is from a past generation ... _many_ generations ago... and like those of his kind, he feels confident in a man's ability to manage. I wouldn't take it personally, Granger. After all, I doubt he would recall your name if it weren't dangling on your name badge at his eye level." Malfoy sat himself on the edge of her desk again and offhandedly motioned to her chest. "And I'm sure Collins believes you're only temporary, anyway."

  


"Meaning what, Malfoy?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, giving him her full, angry attention.

  


"Most witches dream of settling down with a good wizard, having children and whatnot. Of course, you're not like most witches, though, are you?" He wasn't looking at her. Instead he was fiddling with his collar, flicking away imaginary dust. If he had been, he would have jumped far away and dropped the subject at the utter fury emanating from his assistant. Completely unaware, he continued.

  


"If you were, Weasley would have had you saddled with the beginnings of a full-out brood by now and you'd never even know about the position. Suppose you must consider yourself fortunate, hmm?"

  


Hermione bit her tongue. It wouldn't do to go exploding all over the office, even if she was provoked, even if it was deserved. She had to keep her temper in check or else she wouldn't be worried about being passed over for a promotion, but rather being on the dole. Taking a deep breath and holding it until the count of five, Hermione separated herself from the disappointment and indignation and reached for the next item of business. There was plenty to do, after all, and this was her current job. _Do this for now, worry about the future later._

  


Still Malfoy sat on her desk, casually watching her. She did her best to ignore him, examining the file before her, but he persisted in stealing her attention. From the corner of her eye she watched his hand creep across her desk, touching her things, playing about. Hermione huffed softly, "Is there something else?"

  


After several seconds of slow-moving silence, she turned her chair away.

  


Behind her came a soft shuffling noise and for an instant she allowed herself to believe he had left. She felt the heat of his breath before she heard his voice, soft and too close. "I wonder, Granger...where is that lovely book?"

  


Her eyes closed and her blush deepened. She knew he wouldn't drop such a grand chance to humiliate her. There was a brief second during her exposure at lunch when something close to sincerity came across his face, in his voice. But she was the fool to believe Draco Malfoy capable of such a thing.

  


She could feel his breath as it parted the curls falling down the front of her left shoulder, he was that close. Her own breath hitched at the sensation, her heart speeding up. Hermione pictured him behind her, studying her, smelling her hair. His hands would rest on her shoulders, tugging her around to face him. His grey eyes would light up with passion she could feel, deep down. He'd begin murmuring to her, telling her how long he'd thought about her, about them, and how much he wanted her, right there, on her desk. He'd pull her up from her chair, toss the file away, and capture her lips in a heated kiss and she'd moan with satisfaction. _Finally, oh yes, finally!_

  


Hermione startled. _Oh my God. I'm actually having fantasies about Draco Sodding Malfoy?!_ Carefully she inched her head to the left, looking for him. She sighed with relief to find him gone. At least, she hoped it was relief.

  


***

  


The rest of the week practically flew by, as did the beginning of the next. Hermione worked diligently, cautiously, meeting the standards of her two bosses, and thus giving neither a chance to reprimand her. She noticed, however, that Malfoy's manner had changed since their encounter last week. He was all business now, no snide remarks about her appearance, no jabs about her personal life, or lack thereof. Seeing him that way sent off mental alarms, expecting any moment for the Jack in the Box of his temper to pop out and explode before her eyes.

  


When she had to address him, which was infrequent, thankfully, she walked away even more uncomfortable than before. Malfoy never looked at her, she noted, and barely spoke. He chose his words deliberately, seeming put out to do even that much where she was concerned. She knew it was her, because she had heard him in his office talking to other employees, both from their department and others, and he was his usual self then.

  


Hermione silently brooded over the change. It was yet another way for him to make her unwelcome and feel undeserving of her position at the Ministry. When she met up with Harry for lunch that week, he gaped at her. He said she was looking at this all wrong, that it was a gift to not be harassed by Malfoy, and his comment surprised her. It was true enough, but why hadn't she realized it for herself?

  


Following lunch, Hermione made her way to the loo on the ground floor. She had been so attentive to her work lately, she had nearly broken her bad habit of reading on the clock. However, her newest romance was calling her all through lunch, and still she had a few minutes before she was due back, so she chose a stall near the far end and prepared for a little escape.

The lavatory door banged open, and two very loud chattering women came in. _No worries, there are plenty of stalls._ Swiftly she turned to her bookmark and picked up where she left off last night.

  


... _he held her in his arms, rubbing her cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. Tyler knew women, but none of them were like Olivia..._

  


"So like I was saying, I don't know how she manages to keep her job. She has no personality, no friends. It's just like back at school," said one woman to another. Apparently they came for the gossip benefit rather than the obvious purpose of the loo. Hermione did her best to drown them out.

  


... _she had to tell him the truth, before it was too late. Before he walked out of her life, forever. "Tyler, wait! I..." Olivia choked, the emotion too strong..._

  


"...and he told me that she was this close to getting sacked. Once she's gone, I'll take her spot. He promised me." Hermione could tell that the woman's companion doubted the yapper, and she couldn't really blame her. From the little she had heard, Hermione was almost certain it was Daphne Greengrass speaking, and she was known to exaggerate things, especially the latest gossip.

  


 _Still_ , Hermione rolled her eyes. _No woman their age would be stupid enough to blather about inter-office politics like that without first checking the stalls!_ She couldn't very well flush and step out now, could she? Instead she glanced at her watch, noting the remaining time, and returned to her romance for the long-awaited revelation.

  


... _Very seriously, with complete abandon, Olivia confessed to Tyler, "I want to be whatever you need..."_

  


"If Draco could really sack Granger, wouldn't he have by now?"

  


Hermione froze.

  


She was going to be fired? For what? Malfoy was going to fire her?! _After all I put into that department...it's not his place to lay me off. I'm being fired? Malfoy's firing me?_

  


The book was completely forgotten in an instant, and it fell to the tiled floor, clattering loudly in the resonating toilet. She could hear a shuffle by the sinks, a rustle of clothing and nylon as two women leaned down to see where the noise had come. There was no point in hiding anymore.

  


Hermione unlocked the door of her stall and walked out, head held high, not meeting their shocked faces or responding to their snickers and whispers. She left the book where it fell.

  


To say she was shell-shocked would be an understatement. Her mind replayed the conversation from the toilet over and over on her lift ride, interjecting now and again with what she knew to be true and what she hoped to be simply gossip. Hermione was determined to get to the bottom of this rumor immediately.

  


She marched back to office with determination resounding with every step. She knew exactly what she would do: find Collins and learn the truth. Easy enough, she decided. Collins had showed in the past preferential treatment to Malfoy. What if the twit was right? Her mind raced as the lift slowed.

  


Of _course_ he'd be on Malfoy's side, so what was the point? It made perfect sense to her now - Malfoy's recent behavior change. He was planning to fire her and hadn't the bollocks to tell her to her face. Here it was, almost the weekend, and Hermione imagined Malfoy calling her into his office, giving her some smarmy excuse for terminating her, like reduction in force or some such.

  


"I never liked that job anyway," she sniffled. She picked up her pace, but felt her assurance waning with each footstep. By the time she entered the office she had convinced herself it was time to let it all go. She was unhappy here, her abilities going to waste. Besides, a break would do her good. She could finally get around to seeing her parents down in Australia, spend more time with Harry and Ginny, and perhaps see if Ron was interested in getting together one night.

  


Hermione barely registered her desk through her bleary eyes as she stuffed her personal belongings in a box. She found a note waiting in her inbox and reached to open it, but thought twice. _It's no longer my concern._ The tears welled up, and immediately she was angry again. Angry at herself for crying. At Malfoy for making her so miserable every day. She wadded the parchment and flung it into the nearest bin. Wiping her eyes, she double checked herself before shrinking the box to a manageable size.

  


She glanced back at the ball in the bin, making out the loop of her surname, feeling a twinge of curiosity and regret before finally leaving.

  


She rubbed at her eyes when she reached the corridor, noting other Ministry workers returning to work after lunch. No need to draw attention to myself, she thought, then stopped dead in her path. Hermione's nostrils flared as she spotted Draco Malfoy entering the lift.

  


With righteous indignation she managed to jump in with him before the doors closed. Malfoy was quite surprised. He tried to say something, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but she denied him.

  


"Who the hell do you think you are, Draco Malfoy?" She screeched.

  


"Beg pardon?" His humor was replaced by astonishment. Luckily for them both, they were alone.

  


"You may have more money and more connections than I do, and you may be slightly higher up here than I am, but you do not have any say-so in my life," she raved, her eyes narrowing to furious slits. Malfoy could only stare incredulously back down at her.

  


He waited a few seconds before asking, "Does this mean you found the note, or...?"

  


"You can shove your note up your arse, Malfoy! We both know I'm better than that, and just because you think you're something special," she poked him with her finger, her voice rising. "Doesn't give you the right to do this! You have made my life here absolutely miserable and I can take no more!" She stepped away, needing space, needing oxygen, panting. She gathered herself before continuing in a lower, controlled tone. "There's no point in going to Collins, since he's part of your Wizards-only club, so instead I'm going to H.R."

  


Draco's eyes widened in alarm at last. At least she hoped it was alarm. _Would serve him right to finally worry about his own position here._ Hermione had very little expectation that anyone in Human Resources would care how he'd pawned off his work for years. She hadn't ever complained, and she had no documentation. No, all she could do was put in a request for transfer. But seeing the fear in his eyes, thinking she was capable of tarnishing his shiny platinum _nouvelle réputation_ was a small satisfaction.

  


"Why not get Greengrass to replace me? She's already bragging about it!"

  


Before he could respond, the lift announced the ground floor and Hermione bolted. Behind her she heard him call out her name twice, but she ignored him. She caught one final look at Draco Malfoy, staring after her with utter puzzlement, before the Floo sent her home.

  


***

  


Being a homebody was not top on Hermione's list of life goals. In fact, the past two days had been hell for her. She had called up her friends to share the news. Harry and Ron were getting more than their fair share of terrible assignments, being the newest Aurors and all, and were busy all hours of the day and night. Ginny was away with her team on the Continent. Hermione considered calling her parents, but since she was now unemployed she worried about spending the money. After she had reversed the memory charm on her parents, they had become even more hesitant to invite magic into their daily lives, so Floo'ing them was impossible.

  


During these past two days, she had begun reorganizing her personal library. Before her books were shelved alphabetically by author, then title. Now they were categorized by subject, then in chronological order. It had only taken her six hours to complete, leaving her plenty of time to worry about her future.

  


Hermione's mind was racing, despite the slowness of her body. It was shock, of course, but knowing that didn't relieve her at all. What was done was done. Either she would hear back from Polly in Human Resources or she would just find somewhere else to work. The Ministry of Magic was not the end all, be all, after all. And she was top of her class, or would have been, had she actually finished her seventh year. Even so, her background spoke for itself. Job offers would be finding her before too long.

  


Hopefully before too long. Not that she was pressed for money, not right away, but still.

  


Hermione wandered into her bedroom, inspecting it. Her attention was drawn to the vanity table, mounded up with her romance novels. Most she had finished but had not yet traded in for new ones, although some she intended to keep. Sighing, she sat down to face the job at hand, separating the titles into various piles.

  


Automatically she began categorizing them as well. There were the historical ones, the suspenseful ones, the ones about blushing virgins, the Daddy ones, and the really raunchy ones. The book she had been reading last, the one left in the loo, was a raunchy one in which the heroine was coerced into marrying a tyrant in order to provide for her family. It was ridiculous and sexist, and it angered Hermione that it had cost her a career.

  


Annoyance replaced her anxiety as she looked upon the mountains of books surrounding her. She had wasted four years of her life with this nonsense. Four years in which she could have earned the career she had wanted in Magical Law Enforcement, or even Magical Creatures, had she not been so distracted with such _porn_. Why did she read them, anyway? The writing was appalling, the plots nonexistent, and the characters completely unrealistic. The only appeal was the sex because it was missing in her life.

  


Just because she and Ron didn't turn out as planned, she had given up on finding someone else. That was it! She had buried herself in trashy novels, hiding away when something she tried had failed.

  


Furiously she threw the book she held across the room, missing the bin completely, but feeling satisfied with the loud thump it made against the wall. Ferociousness came upon her as she reached for another and another, ripping the covers to bits, yanking pages out, shredding the bloody things, all the while yelling and laughing. Like a bull in a china shop, she wrecked her own bedroom, tearing the books apart. On her bedside table she found her wand, and an idea struck her. Without a second thought, Hermione levitated all the bits of books out of the bedroom and into the kitchenette. Quickly she marched through the rest of her apartment, searching out any that had so far escaped her wrath, and sent them in as well. When she finally believed she had all the romance novels together, she cast Incendio.

  


The blaze was great, much larger than she had imagined, somehow unaware of just how many of those damned books she owned. She had been hiding behind trashy romances for so very long. It reminded her of when she first went away to Hogwarts, afraid of not being accepted or good enough. She used books to learn as much as she could in order to belong. Now she used them to disappear from reality.

  


 _What happened to my temerity? I have faced so many obstacles, death on many occasions and prejudice in many forms. But one failed romance and I become an automaton?_

  


The paperbacks curled up, burning into ash. The waxy covers made an awful smell when the fire took to them, singeing away the scintillating images of wantonness. Hermione laughed, imagining the burning passions within finally catching aflame. All the smoke finally set off the alarm and the piercing wail startled her. She couldn't stop laughing, becoming hysterical as she tried to fan the smoke alarm back into silence. After several seconds the humor was lost and, frustrated with her efforts, she hexed the thing into silence.

  


Then there was a loud knock on her door. Hermione wiped her brow, shoving her hair out of her eyes as she stomped to answer it. She yanked it open and couldn't believe who stood in the hallway. Draco Malfoy's fist was poised to knock again and he seemed almost as surprised as she was to see him. Immediately she slammed the door back, but his foot prevented it from closing.

  


"What the hell, Granger! Let me in!" The struggle was brief since she was so much smaller, and soon he was inside her apartment.

  


"You must be dumber than you look, Malfoy, to come here," she snarled. Both of his hands were empty and held before him in surrender. He was perfectly still, except for his eyes, which frantically scanned the room, searching out the smell. Hermione anticipated his next move and tried to prevent him from going into the kitchen. "If you don't leave now I will not be responsible for what happens to you!"

  


He hesitated, his grey eyes bulging at her threat, not following her as she moved towards the smoke. Or so she thought. The fire was churning, eating its way through the pile and was searching out the next fare when she finally put it out. Heavy white smoke puffed up, obscuring the room. His coughing fit alerted her that he had indeed followed and was standing directly behind her. A flick of his wand later and the windows opened to usher the smoke away.

  


"What do you want?" She turned on her heel, glaring at her former boss.

  


"You've really gone mad, haven't you, Granger? Setting fire to your ... books?" He picked up a barely charred one, eyes widening at the destruction. She repeated her question, taking a step closer, edging him out. Her wand rose and he tossed the remains onto the countertop. "I was worried."

  


Incredulous was the only way to describe the look she gave him. "You're serious? You come to my home, on the weekend, uninvited," she emphasized, "Barge in and act all concerned, claiming you were _worried_? Worried about your own arse, maybe, or how you were going to get some other fool to take my place is more like it," Hermione scoffed.

  


"I'll have you know," Malfoy said, snooty with an edge of desperation to his voice. "You're contracted to give proper notice. You can't just storm out one day, especially over something like this - it's ridiculous!" His patience was giving out and Hermione was ready for it, eager to finally be done with everything. She attacked, her finger jabbing into his chest, forcing him backwards.

  


"You have made work absolutely wretched, Malfoy! Nothing is ever good enough for you and you must enjoy keeping me down. You and Collins! I've had my fill - _more_ than my fill, actually - and now I'm moving on. I don't _need_ that stupid job, or the Ministry, or you, so go blow it out your arse!"

  


She was panting, her outrage finding long-awaited release. She felt energized, electric, and could feel the magic sparking within, itching to be discharged. He just stood there, frowning down at her, but saying nothing.

  


"Go ring up Greengrass. I'm done!"

  


"I don't _want_ Greengrass," he insisted, stepping forward into her personal space now.

  


"I _heard_ her in the loo, Malfoy! You bragged to her that you were going to sack me," she yelled back in his face.

  


"If you listen to Daphne Greengrass and her ilk, then you're the bigger fool. She eavesdrops on every conversation within a five mile radius and never gets any of them right. I _never_ said anything about firing you, let alone to her."

  


"So she was _lying_? I find that difficult to believe, especially after your reaction in the elevator -"

  


"What I said," Malfoy bellowed over Hermione, making her ears ring, "Was said to Blaise, coming back from lunch. She must've been listening in."

  


"So it was just boy talk, is that it? Feeling macho, bragging to your pal about sacking the secretary?"

  


Her words lodged in her throat as she stared up at Malfoy. Somehow the pieces fell into place, making sense at last. The color of his eyes disappeared in the faint smoke, but she could see enough of his nervous expression to finally understand.

  


"You told Blaise you... were going to sack me?" She asked in a small voice. _Or was it get me in the sack?_ _No,_ _that's nonsense. Isn't it?_ Hermione continued to stare up at him, but he didn't look at her, choosing instead to assess the burnt books once more. A flush bloomed across his face that had nothing to do with the extinguished flames or his anger and everything to do with her. Memories zoomed past, desperate to disprove this new notion.

  


Malfoy hated her, because she was a Mudblood, and a goody-goody, unworthy of being in the wizarding world and whatnot. But try as she might, Hermione could not recall any time in the past four years when he had used any of these reasons against her. Yes, he'd mocked her, daily even, for her clothes, her hair, even her penmanship for Merlin's sake! Mocked her because she was a witch in a predominantly wizard environment.

  


They were all superficial excuses, though. Malfoy was still bullying her, and like most schoolyard bullies tugging on the braids of little girls, it was because he secretly liked her.

  


Draco Malfoy had a crush on Hermione Granger.

  


She was at a loss for words, and so she walked out of the kitchenette and fell down onto the loveseat, utterly gobsmacked. Hermione couldn't wrap her head around it. _Malfoy was attracted to me? He like-liked me?  
_  


She felt the cushion depress next to her, but couldn't face him. Now she was blushing, replaying her own words from the elevator confrontation, hearing them as he had. _How could I have not seen this, all this time? No, I'm wrong. It's those damn romance novels - they've rewired my brain. There's only one way to know for certain..._

  


"Um..."

  


Gee, that's intelligent, she berated herself before trying again. "So, why did you come here?"

  


Malfoy was quiet for a long time, and for a moment she didn't think he would answer, but he surprised her. Again.

  


"I was worried." She waited for a beat before reminding him that he'd already said as much. Then he continued as if she had never interrupted. "I was worried that my note had offended you and you had reported me to H.R. for harassment."

  


Hermione wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire situation, and nearly did but for the sincerity in his voice. For the first time since their final year at Hogwarts Draco Malfoy seemed almost...human, vulnerable. She shook her head.

  


"I never read the note. I assumed it was a termination notice and I wasn't going to let you sac-, _fire_ me," she quickly amended. "What...what did you write?" She asked quietly.

  


Malfoy shifted towards her, his eyes staring somewhere beneath hers. He made her nervous, so she licked her lips. When he mimicked her move, her breath hitched. "Do you think..." he whispered, still staring at her mouth.

  


She leaned forward slightly, in order to hear him better, not because she couldn't help herself. _Of course not._ "...It would be against Ministry policy for coworkers to see each other... socially?" His voice grew softer the closer she leaned. "Romantically, perhaps?"

  


Hermione smirked.

  


"Well, it's a mute point now. I quit, remember?"

  


"I can get your job back," he whispered, smirking in return.

  


"I really did hate working for you, Malfoy." One eyebrow lifted as she cocked her head, expecting him to concede the point.

  


"I'm about to kiss you, so do you think you could call me by my given name, hmm? Hermione?" He spoke her name slowly, quietly, his hand reaching up to wipe ash from her cheek. His hand stayed there.

  


With false exasperation she said, "I dunno. Guess I could try it. Draco," she rolled the name across her tongue, barely forming the ‘oh' before his mouth covered hers. As she snogged Draco on her loveseat, with the smell of burnt paper heavy still in the apartment, Hermione knew she now had plenty of time to spare for romance.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the artwork of Ningloreth entitled, Draco & Hermione (Manip) http://dramione.org/viewstory.php?sid=606&chapter=1


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